Bittersweet
by Shawtymanex42
Summary: All great love stories start with a passionate first kiss... And tequila... And Kenny McCormick. Kyman. Rated T. Please, don't be shy, if you feel like it, give this little tale a review! I won't bite.


Cartman's POV

You should never play drinking games when you're fifteen. More specifically, you should never play drinking games when you're fifteen _with _Kenny McCormick. Yeah, that never goes down well, and I was about to discover this first hand.

I've made it my priority to remember this date and the time. Friday July 5th (4 days after my fifteenth birthday) at 2:30 AM. I'll always remember it as the worst and best day of my life. My life kind of divided itself on this day, it may sound dramatic, but it's true. There's a part of me that feels completely human, alive, almost humbled and ecstatic, then there's the other half of me which is angry, confused, self loathing and fucked up. Really, really fucked up. And it's all because of one spectacular yet incredibly annoying person who seems to get more spectacular and annoying as the years go on.

We were in Stan's basement, playing video games and drinking whatever we could find in his dad's liquor cabinet when we came across that fateful bottle of Tequila. Immediately Kenny insisted that we play that drinking game with lime and salt, we all groaned, wasn't it enough to get shitfaced on a Friday night without having it turn into a competition? Though we all knew drinking games didn't revolve around comepetitiveness, they revolved around vomitting, making a fool out of yourself and having an excuse to do weird shit with alcohol.

Still, it was something to do and we were all getting bored of drinking old Budwieser six packs. "Okay" Stan sighed slurring a little "how do we play it, Ken?"

"Are you kidding me?" Kenny laughed, shaking his head, unscrewing the Tequila bottle before continuing "You've never heard of this game before?"

"No, we haven't" Kyle groans, rubbing his eyes before saying "Unlike you we were playing with footballs and action figures when we were kids, not Jim Beam."

"Yeah, plus our parents weren't raging alcoholics" I add.

"Okay, first of all, Jim Beam is whiskey, Tequila isn't, secondly, are your parents perfect? No they aren't." Kenny replies, narrowing his eyes at me before I flip him off.

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose, swaying before hauling his ass off the skanky second hand couch his parents bought for the "den". We were under no illusions, this wasn't a den, this was a basement that flooded in the winter and smelt like dogs.

"Ken, just tell us what this game is about so we can play it and get it over with..." Stan says in an exasperated way that must have taken him a lot of effort in his inebriated state.

"That's the spirit!" Kenny smiles, he somehow manages to become perky and excitable when he's drunk, whereas the rest of us get clumsy, grumpy and often nauseous. "Stanley, my boy, get me a lime and a salt shaker please."

"You sound like a crappy cruise ship magician" I smirk, pushing Kenny with such force that he almost falls over and spills Tequila on his orange jacket. It amazed me how at fifteen he could still wear that thing. He's always had this malnourished look about him though, he could probably still fit into kids clothes.

"Fuck you fatass" Kenny snaps before Stan blocks his ears as the volume raises in the room and he calls out angrily "Alright! Alright! I'll get your stuff..."

"Thank you" Kenny smiles sweetly, before making himself comfortable on the couch, nestiling himself between Kyle and I. Kyle grimaces at the sudden, jerky movement of the couch and takes a swig of the stale beer he's been cradiling all night.

He looks so pissed off when he drinks, like he has a beachful of sand in his vagina or something. I laugh and roll my eyes, while he pouts at me and gives me a dirty look, muttering something angrily in Hebrew under his breath before downing the entire contents of the beer bottle.

Kenny glances over at Kyle and then winks at me. Fuck, he's weird.

After a while Stan returns, with a salt shaker and a lemon.

"A lemon?" Kyle asks, raising his eyebrow.

"That's all I had, okay! Stop interrogating me!" Stan snaps, folding his arms and sitting down on the floor.

"Not to worry, that'll work equally as well." Kenny announces. Okay, now he definitely sounds like a cruise ship magician.

"Just tell us what this God damn game is about..." I sigh, feeling like I may have an aneurysm if I get anymore agitated.

"Well, it involves two people" Kenny explains, whilst pouring Tequila into the little shot glasses we found earlier "You lick the salt off your partner's neck, take the shot and then suck the lime, or in this case, lemon, out of the other's mouth."

I think Kyle spoke for all of us when he said with a frozen, shocked expression "Dude."

"What?" Kenny asked, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a group of friends who have known each other since they were five to start sucking each other's necks and making out with lemons in their mouths.

"That's gay as fuck!" Stan shouts.

"Come on, it's fun!" Kenny laughs.

"Yeah, if you're playing it with some hot bartending chick maybe, like the girls at Hooters, but not with another guy, man. Not cool." I reply, though it kind of hurt to say. I don't know why, it was like some unrecognisable, ashamed pain. Like I was making up some ridiculous, desperate lie and saying it right to someone's face, someone who wasn't buying it. I put this down to the alcohol messing with my head.

"Now you're just being ignorant" Kenny says, crossing his arms.

"Ignorant?!" Kyle snaps, becoming hilariously fiesty. It's always very fun to watch. "Well I'm sorry Kenny if we don't wanna spend Friday night watching our friends engage in homo-erotic drinking games!"

"It could be pretty hot..." I sometimes wonder if Kenny has any shame in what he says. Or at least some control.

"Sick dude, what planet are you on?!" Stan asks sharply.

"Do you really wanna pull at that thread?" I ask, looking at Stan seriously and raising my eyebrows.

"Whatever" he mutters back.

"Look, just one game, okay? If it gets too weird then we'll stop" Kenny whines, almost begging us and Stan, Kyle and I look at each other, shrugging our shoulders and exchanging defeated stares.

"Fine" Kyle replies through gritted teeth. While Kenny looks so happy that he may start to dance, Seriously, what's wrong with him?!

"So, who wants to go first?" Kenny asks breezily.

While a chorus of strong, defiant 'not me''s echo around the hollow basement Kenny rolls his eyes and heaves his shoulders.

"Well then, I guess I have to choose, huh?"

I think Kenny must get off on seeing us uncomfortable. The panic and nervousness permeated across the three of us, we all turned red, frozen and refused to look at each other while Kenny grinned, with this excitable, drunken gleam in his eye.

He cleared his throat before saying "Alright... Eenie meenie minie mo-Cartman and Kyle!"

"WHAT?!" Kyle and I shout, practically scream, in unison.

You know those moments where some primal instinct makes you curl up into a panicked, defenseless ball? Where everything is crucial and you've become exposed, cards on the table, so pathetically helpless that it makes you want to scream? Where your lungs, heart, nervous system go into overdrive and you're hit with this daunting, chilling realisation that you're completely screwed? Yeah, I felt like that at that exact moment. And I'm sure Kyle did too. No, I know he did. I felt all that fear and disbelief radiate off of him and I actually felt sympathy for him. For once in my life.

I glance over at him, my heartbeat rocking senselessly in my ears, becoming discordant and disturbed. His face has drained of a flustered, uncomfortable red and has now become white, moist and terrified. He can't even form a sentence right now, his words stumble out of his mouth and evaporate on his lips. Naturally, I did all the talking for us...

"No, no, no fucking way! I am not playing this stupid gay game with that little Jew faggot! I don't wanna be contaminated by his Hebrew germs!" I shout, standing up and balling my fists, with this sudden urge to punch anyone and everyone.

"Hey! You really think I want your second grade bacteria in my system?!" Kyle snaps back, trying his hardest to stand up on his drunken, loose legs.

Meanwhile Stan has gone into some weird catatonic state and Kenny is laughing his ass off to the point that he may piss himself.

"Look, look, one game won't hurt, right?!" Kenny struggles to breathe through his laughter, wiping smug tears of joy away from his depraved little eyes.

"YES IT WILL!" Kyle and I again shout at the same time. We both exchange dirty looks and cross our arms, what the fuck is happening?

"You guys are giving me a headache" Stan groans, snapping out of his coma briefly to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Well what do you expect me to do, Stan?!" Kyle shouts back, his voice shrill and it makes me want to burst out in nervous laughter.

"Just fucking play the game already." Stan replies, his teeth gritted.

"No way! I am not touching that fucking kike!" I swear to God, Kyle looked like he was going to punch me in that moment, the notion of it was weirdly exciting. Just the thought of him blessing me with vivid impact made a shiver go down my spine. Okay, this is getting fucked up...

"What have you got to lose?" Kenny teases, waving the salt shaker in my face.

I snatch his wrist away before glaring at him and mumbiling bitterly "My dignity."

"Really? I thought you lost that a long time ago" Kyle sneers before running his eyes meanly over me. I hate it.

"So, whatdya say?" Kenny asks, way too enthusiastically.

To my surpise and utter horror, Kyle says firmly and boldly "I'll play."

Before I can stop myself I reply "Me too."

We look at each other with cold, hard eyes, our eyebrows furrowed and teeth gritted. Kyle's fists clench and unclench and he sits down, folding his arms. Kenny tugs at my arm and sits me down too but I can't help but keep looking at Kyle.

His jaw is locked, so much so that you can see how defined his bone structure is, I feel this familar heat gnaw at my groin and it grows more vicious when I realise that this is sick and wrong and that it's Kyle, _Kyle _for fuck sake!

"Alright" Kenny begins, tipping salt onto his middle and index fingers before rubbing it on my neck. "There you go..."

"What the fuck?!" I snap.

"It's part of the game" Kenny smiles, licking his teeth.

The salt trails from my Adam's apple and curves upward until it reaches a pressure point by my ear, it burns my skin, sinking into my pores, making me grind my teeth and seethe. I let my gaze linger over Kyle, who's watching deeply and almost hungrily as the salt oozes into my skin and leaves a glistening, white trail behind. As soon as I catch him staring, he looks away, his hands fidgeting. Usually I would've revelled in Kyle being so uncomfortable and got some kind of glorious kick out of it but now things were different. Maybe because we were in the same boat?

Kenny magically produces a pocket knife out of his jeans pocket and cuts a wedge out of the lemon, while Stan is looking at Kyle with sympathetic eyes. If only my best friend wasn't a giggiling, excited weirdo, if only he could offer me some compassion right now. I guess I deserve it.

"Okay, now put this in your mouth." Kenny smirks, dangiling the lemon wedge between his index finger and thumb, some juice leaks onto the floor before I snatch the damn thing off him. Rolling my eyes, I put the lemon in my mouth and immediately wretch at the sour, bitter taste that's flaring on my tongue.

"Ready Kyle?" Kenny snickers.

"Sure" Kyle sighs heavily, crinkiling his nose and hesitantly leaning in towards me. I try to give him a dirty look, but it's hard to look intimidating when you've got a lemon wedge stuck in your mouth.

Kyle ignores me anyway, the look on his face right now suggests that he'd rather be dead than have to go through with this psychologically traumatising humilation. Hell, I feel the same way.

I froze, however, when I felt his hand clutch onto my knee and when I glanced at him, his eyes were half-lidded and the tip of his tongue was probing his full bottom lip. In short, he looked hot, hotter than anybody I had seen in real life. I indulged in his senses and a heated, crisp electricity crackled and fizzed from my chest right down to my groin. It was all so overwhelming. Jesus Christ monkey balls, I never realised how good looking he is.

His tongue almost sizzled when it met my trembiling, moist skin, I was fucking terrified. But he liked it, liked my humilation and potent fear, the salt of my own skin mixing with the trail that ran along my neck. I swear I can feel him smiling. I gulped, my Adam's apple retreating from the hot, red swell of his tongue, I'm sure he whimpered as he dragged his tongue longingly, pleadingly, up my neck. The lemon wedge acted as a welcomed gag, a moan crawled up from my trachea but was extinguished, my canine punctured the yellow flesh and sourness erupted and trickled down the dry walls of my throat. I felt my eyes close dreamily as Kyle's slick, delightful tongue took it's time tasting my skin, reaching the end of the trail, flicking over my pressure point, leaving a damp track behind him. His laboured breathing enclosed me, he shivered and made quivering, sensitive goosebumps rise on my flesh.

Kyle swiftly pulls away from me and I watch with wistful eyes as he takes a shot of the Tequila, wretching, coughing, muttering a plethora of raspy curse words under his breath. While Kenny laughs and Stan is left reeling, probably because he just watched his best friend lick the neck of his worst enemy. I smirk when I realise that Kyle has to practically _make out _with me to get the lemon out of my mouth. Fuck. I have never been so nervous and excited in all my life, it feels really great, exhillirating.

Kyle turns to me, obviously shaking, with his eyes closed and his lips half heartedly ready. I sit still, mostly because I've put my defenses up and am unable to move, it doesn't help that my heart is beating dangerously fast and my palms are getting sweaty. I lower my eyes and direct my gaze to Kyle's full lips, so soft on the rough skin of my neck, I wonder what it will be like when our lips meet? His trembiling hands clamp down on my shoulders, his fingers digging into the grooves of my muscles and he clutches me even tighter when he hits me with a blunt, chaste kiss. I instantly sink into his hold, moving closer so our bodies can slide perfectly together and my unsure hands rest on his back, my index finger tracing his spine, making him purr. While his right hand slips down from my shoulder and clutches onto my bicep, he angles his head so his tongue can slip easily into my mouth, like a warm, teasing intruder that works slowly. He runs his tongue along the backs of my teeth, intertwines with my own as I make it even harder for him to get the lemon out of my mouth. Mainly because I don't want this to end too soon but also because I like to annoy him a little, but he doesn't seem to mind, in fact he whines and giggles, smiling against my lips and sighing, the noise vibrating pleasurably in my mouth. Our kiss tastes like Tequila, beer, salt and most noticably lemon, there's a clash of teeth and lips, our tongues graze at our mouths and the lemon but it tastes interesting, bittersweet and it turns us on, Kyle couldn't pretend, he was getting as excited as me right now.

His talented tongue twists around the lemon wedge and teasingly prises it away from my grip. Kyle spits it out onto the floor, but still offers me a quick kiss, not as passionate as before, but I'm determined to change that. Before Kyle can pull away, I run my tongue over his bottom lip, making him gasp and whimper, allowing me in, our kiss deepens for a few more seconds and my hand trails up to his scarlet curls and clutches his hair possesively. Until of course we realised where we were.

It was then that we stopped, panting and releasing each other. Kyle still kept his damp forehead pressed to mine, I wasn't an idiot, I wasn't going to break this yet. I stared down, bewildered at his lips, swollen by kisses, flushed and his cheeks tinged with flustered ecstasy. Kind of like mine, I suppose. It was then I realised that while I was getting increasingly turned on by his sexy, gorgeous lips, he was staring into my eyes the entire time. I was a fucking fool to miss those. Those fervent, fiery eyes that made my heart melt.

Yeah, I definitely had a boner right now. Fuck.

And I was certainly, pathetically falling in love. That was the hot, somewhat romantic calm before the heartbreaking, all consuming, unrequited storm.

I was fucking in love with my worst enemy and I had fallen hard. Cruel. Undeniably true.

~x~

**Three years later**

"Prom? Really?" Kyle groans, shaking his head at the poster in front of us. "Shouldn't that have died out years ago?"

"Yeah, what's the point of it anyway? All that stress for one night that you'll be too drunk to remember..." Stan replies, even though he was the last person who should be saying something like that.

"That's easy for you to say, at least you have a date." I snap, nudging Stan before he scowls at me.

"What do you-" Stan begins before gasping and muttering "Oh crap, I forgot I have a girlfriend..."

"Imagine if she heard you say that, she'd scratch your eyes out... Maybe even rip your balls off." Kyle jokes.

We all laugh before Stan gets all melodramatic and way too serious for his own good. "Shut up you guys! Aw, crap, you don't think Wendy wants to go to prom do you?"

Kenny, Kyle and I exchange disbelieving looks with each other, seriously, does Stan not understand girls at all? This led us to say "yes" in exasperated unison.

"Honestly dude, it's prom! Girls go crazy for that bullcrap." I explain, rolling my eyes.

"Well, Wendy isn't like other-"

"Woah Stan" Kenny interrupts "I think you're missing out on a valuable opportuinity here. It's true that girls are obsessed with prom, especially your girlfriend who is on so many clubs and comittees that she takes up every page of the year book. But, if you play up to this charade of loving prom just as much as she does, then you may get yourself some action..."

"Really?" Stan asks, his voice becoming eager and his eyes widening at the possibility to have sex with his long-term girlfriend.

"Of course! It's the prom effect! Girls go wet at the sight of tiaras and prom queen sashes... Trust me!" Kenny smiles smugly, like he knows everything about girls. Well, he has slept with a considerable amount of them.

"Kenny, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard" Kyle sighs, raising his eyebrows disapprovingly.

"Uh-oh, Sergeant Buzzkill is out patrolling the halls again..." I tease, as Kyle punches me in the arm and I try to contain a satisfied, guilty smile. For three years it's been the same, I become euphoric even if Kyle gives me a slither of attention. Everything just echoes back to that night in Stan's basement, I wonder if Kyle thinks about it as much as I do? Even if he was insanely in love with me I would never know... He would hate to let his guard down in front of me.

Before our argument can escalate further, the shriek of the bell runs down the halls and makes everybody groan in disappointment, forcing us to all go our seperate ways. It's funny how we only ever see each other in the morning before classes start and lunchtime and yet we haven't made any other friends accept each other. We've stuck with the same format since we were five. I don't think anybody pays enough attention to us to really want to pursue our friendship. We're not exactly the most popular kids, I mean, Stan has a girlfriend and is on the football team. But his girlfriend is Wendy and we've known her since pre-school and Stan only plays football because his dad strongly encourages him to, though he's really good and if he became more passionate about it, he could become really successful. Who knows? He could play for the Broncos one day... Lucky bastard. Kenny, on the other hand, is popular for the wrong reasons, because he gets drunk on the weekends and screws other people's girlfriends. But Kenny's a nice guy and rather quiet and chilled until you give him a drink or a hot, blonde chick.

Exhausted mumbles of "see you guys later" gets passed around our zombified group. It's too fucking early to pay attention to anybody, especially an arrogant as fuck teacher who thinks they're better than you.

"See you in detention later." Kyle softly says to me, kind of startiling me, touching my shoulder in an awkward display of friendship before nervously pulling away.

"Oh, yeah, see you... uh, later..." Jesus Christ when did I lose the ability to talk?! I cough into my fist and blush, but I feel better when I see Kyle smirking cutely at me. Even though he did look like a pompous asshole. But hey, I kinda like it.

He swiftly walks away from me, but turns around every now and then, almost as if he's checking on me or something.

Crap, I completely forgot about detention. A solid hour alone with Kyle surely isn't going to do any good to my battered, screwed up little heart. And it's all his damn fault.

~x~

There's no "in between" with Kyle and I. I've learnt this after three years of being stuck in a relationship purgatory with that darling Jew. Up until that fateful July night everything was simple, planned out, easy to explain. I hated him to the point of obsession and addiction, practically perishing if he ever left. Who would feed my constant need for attention? Who would be my punching bag that always fought back? Who would be my challenge? My equal? Try as they might, nobody could ever live up to Kyle. Not only was he an excruciatingly perfect source of teenage angst and longing but he was also a damn good oponent, consuming my thoughts with vengence, my anger flaring delciously whenever he acknowledged me.

We just had to play that stupid game, didn't we? He just had to thrill me and excite me and get me all worked up and under his thumb... Because though it's taken me a long time to admit this and to actually say it without gagging... That night with Kyle wasn't some startiling revelation. Actually, it was just kind of, well, an awakening, an epiphany that was bound to happen sooner or later. Wiping the steam away from the glass to reveal your own cruel reflection staring back. All this time I had liked him, admired him, wanted him desperately. It just took a very provocative drinking game and drunken humilation to realise this. See, there are two scientifically proven facts about the human brain and relationships and emotions and all that crap... The first one is that the part of the brain that makes you madly in love and the part of the brain that makes you hate someone so much that you want to murder them slowly with a bread knife are right next to each other. So it's easy to get the two confused, easy for the two to merge and once you've fallen in love with someone you hate, there's basically no way back. Just ask me. I'm going to be perfectly honest here, but jacking off whilst thinking about Kyle has given me the best orgasms ever, which leads me to the other scientifically proven fact, which is that hate will always turn into lust before culminating as a beautiful, soul-crushing love that will either drive you to suicide or the arms of the person you so want to be with and make passionate love to... But in the real world, I would put my money on the former. Only people in movies get the guy or the girl or whatever.

So things have been weird ever since. Although he doesn't love me, he feels something for me, a spark or an attraction. I see him staring at me, blushing whenever I stand really close to him, getting defensive over the simplest things and yet he also acts really nice to me sometimes. I like that he tries too hard. Stifiling, ashamed emotions are never good, especially when they're shared by two very proud and stubborn teenagers who have anger issues and a bad history together. Our fights escalate to the point where I either want to strangle him or kiss him so hard that I make him cry, before obviously fucking him. And I can see this weird masochistic temptation burning in Kyle's eyes that wants me to hurt him then heal his wounds, he wants something more than what we have now. But I could never, ever let myself be honest.

That's actually why we're in detention now. We got into a really big fight in the cafeteria, we both were beat up really bad, it's all just a blur now. I woke up in the nurses room, with an ice pack sticking to my cold hair and my jaw numb and slack. Kyle was lying next to me, breathing heavily and sharply and he stole quick, curious glances of me every now and then, gritting and ungritting his teeth in the process. Our clothes were both messed up and there was actually a tear in Kyle's jacket. There was dried blood clinging to his neck and a grape, swollen bruise glistening meanly around his eye, bringing the emerald out in his iris. The principal walked in then and said he was sick of hearing my name come up whenever there's trouble. I wanted to defend myself with a smartass comment but I couldn't. I just wanted to sleep. We had after school detention every day for a month, because of the "severity" of our injuries and the "sheer stupidity and reckless violence" we supposedly showed. Now normally, I would miss these detentions and not give a fuck, but apparently if I don't attend, I'm gonna be expelled.

And I'm late. Fuck.

I'm just finishing the first week of these things and this is the first time I've been late. Kyle's gonna be pissed, sometimes I think he just needs to chill out. Or have some really awesome sex to loosen him up a little bit. I don't even know if he's a virgin or not, I think if I ever asked him he'd kick me in the balls and to be honest, it's not worth it.

So I stroll in, half an hour late, Kyle's sitting at the back, with this whole Jew rage thing going on. Slouching in his seat, arms folded tightly and resting on his knees and he has this look on his face that says "If anyone so much as stares in my general direction I will murder them". The teacher who's name I've forgotten is snoring, his head resting on the desk and if he wasn't making that irritating noise you would've sworn that Kyle had bashed his head against the wood and knocked him out.

"Cartman!" Kyle hisses, snapping me out of my daydreams "Where the hell have you been?!"

"Aw, why are you asking Kahl? Did you miss me?" I smirk, my saccharine voice making him wince.

"No" Kyle whispers, biting his lip as he tries to muffle his laughter, turning serious when he says "It's just that if you're late to these detentions then you're going to get expelled and-"

"I won't" I interrupt "It's about attendance not punctuality, I can be as late as I want but as long as I turn up then I'll be okay."

Kyle rolls his eyes and then turns to look out of the window. There's this tense silence in the room that heightens this weird chemistry I always feel around Kyle, I hate it. I just don't know how to behave, acting cocky can only take me so far after all and the only thing I can think of doing is touching him again and kissing him... The memory rushes back like boisterous, relentless waves during a storm, drowning and smothering me with vivid touches and tastes.

"Well? Sit down!" Kyle snaps impatiently. "This past half an hour has been torture..."

"Why's that?" I ask, taking a seat next to him.

"No one to talk to. It's just boring" Kyle shrugs, deflated, studying his nails.

This past week has been amazing and horrible. It's been amazing because, well, Kyle and I have kind of realised that when we're on our own and we're forced to make decent, nice conversation with each other, we get along quite well. Which is a terrifying discovery after 13 years of pure hatred and animosity. Kyle actually makes detentions _enjoyable _and it disappoints me how in the morning all that niceness and relief gets washed away and that intrinsic rivalry is all we have left. Everyday, when the hour is up and we get to go home, we smile shyly, awkwardly say goodbye and I watch him leave with the knowledge that I love him even more. Then there's just this glorious ache that I only feel for him and that I wouldn't give up for the world.

It's been horrible however because we're slipping further and further away from what we're supposed to be. We're not supposed to be friends, we're supposed to be, well, enemies. The lines are becoming blurrier, rules are changing, morphing into other rules and sometimes neither of us knows what to say or how to behave. My worst fear is that, pretty soon, it's all going to come down to confrontations, denial and painful confessions. And it will all end in tears.

"How long has he been sleeping?" I ask, tilting my head at Mr... Fuck, what's his name?

"Well, he was awake when I'm came in here but then after ten, maybe fifteen minutes he was out cold." Kyle replies, both of us studying the teacher from the back of the class.

"Maybe he's got narcolepsy"

"Hmmm... I heard that a bunch of the kids in tenth grade put sleeping pills in his coffee."

Sure enough, on the corner of the desk was a cup of coffee, Kyle and I glanced at it and laughed softly under our breath.

"Yeah, that seems like the best explanation" I smile, looking at Kyle, running my eyes over him.

Kyle catches me, smiles back and even blushes. Embarassed, he coughs and turns away. It's just those moments that make me wonder...

"You know what we should do? We should just pull a Breakfast Club on him and leave a note on his desk from the two of us. Something about not judging people and how it doesn't matter what clique you're in because we're all going through the same crap" Kyle says, before asking "I mean, that's pretty much the point of the entire movie isn't it?"

"Yeah, pretty much" I nod "Man, that's a great movie."

"You're only saying that because you have a crush on Ally Sheedy" Kyle teases, leaning in close to me and poking my arm.

"I do not have a crush on Ally Sheedy!" I snap, shoving him away, both us laughing childishly for a few minutes.

"If you're going to have a crush on anybody from The Breakfast Club then it should be Molly Ringwald..." Kyle points out.

"Molly Ringwald? Seriously?!" I laugh.

"Dude, she's fucking hot." Kyle replies, nodding his head and getting all cute and defensive.

"Oh, I get it... It's because she's ginger" I tease, leaning in close like Kyle did, so I can piss him off even more. He hates it when people invade his personal space. He could invade my personal space any day...

"No" Kyle mumbles, smirking and blushing.

"It's understandable, I mean, all you gingers and daywalkers got to stick together right?" I laugh, poking him in his ribs until I'm nearly tickiling him.

"Dude, fuck off!" Kyle shouts, trying to sound tough and serious but he just ends up giggiling his words and squeaking in between his laughs and breaths.

This carries on for a while, Kyle manages to find some strength from somwhere and starts kicking and playfully punching me until I'm doing the same. Laughing and scrambiling around like kids until we fall off our chairs and end up like a retarded, laughing mess on the floor, desperately trying to catch our breaths. And that teacher still didn't wake up, shit how strong were those sleeping pills?!

The remaining half an hour started catching up with us. Making us go our seperate ways. We probably won't even talk to each other or bring this up until tomorrow at 3 o'clock. That's one of the worst things about being stuck "in between", having to keep something so damn good a secret.

~x~

Kyle hadn't been in detention for 3 days... Well, he hadn't been in school either. And according to Stan it was because he had caught the flu or something. I couldn't help but laugh and roll my eyes when he said that, which caused Stan to call me a prick under his breath and storm off to get to second base with Wendy under the bleachers before class started.

So now it was Saturday and I decided to go and visit Kyle, if only to rip on him for my own personal gain. I don't know whether I was experiencing some pathetic withdrawl or I was just slowly starting to become a compassionate person that actually cared about people's lives. I'd hate it if either of them were true. Something tells me that I can also blame both of these possibilities on Kyle. Stupid gorgeous Jew.

I've always liked Kyle's brother, he seems like the type of kid that if we were the same age, we'd get along really well. So I'm glad he was the one who answered the door, because if I had to make small talk with Kyle's parents I'd probably start to feel suidical within the first five seconds. They hate me, but the feeling's mutual. Kyle's mother is so intimidating and ruthless that it even makes my skin crawl, though she can also be charming and rather polite, though there's always this unnerving, sinister edge to her. I don't know how Kyle can't stand it... In a way, he's kind of like her though. They share those qualities that some would say are admirable and coveted, they're both fiery, confident and tough. They even have the same cold stares that could make your balls wither and fall off.

"You here to see Kyle or something?" Ike asked, in that obnoxious, almost broken voice. He's obviously going through that moody, angsty phase of adolescence. Hell, me and my friends are still going through that phase right now... I guess it starts at thirteen and doesn't end until you're well into your twenties... Maybe even thirties.

"Yeah" I nodded, blushing at the thought of seeing Kyle, maybe the cold weather will disguise it.

"He's upstairs. Being as melodramatic as ever." Ike tries to smile, rolling his eyes in a way that lets me know he's amused. Although he probably thinks he's too "misunderstood" and proud to show it.

He was right though, Kyle could never handle being sick. I think it's because that when he's sick it hits his immune system pretty hard because of his diabetes. But whatever. Every time some illness fell upon him, he would talk to you in this sobering, resigned way that made you think you would never speak to him again. He sounded like an old man or a depressed, accepting person who is coming to terms with a life-threatening disease. It was always really funny and annoyingly endearing.

When I walked into Kyle's room it was bathed in darkness, the only light was the pale glow from his TV, chattering disposable nonsense. His bed was a mountain of various pastel blankets, used Kleenexes and Doritos packets (Kyle eats those a lot when he's depressed, which he obviously is right now). There was also a worrying amount of pills and painkiller tubs on his dresser drawer and in amongst this den of self pity and illness was Kyle. Pale, tired, constantly sniffing and scowling and looking as if every movement he made, ached. And immediately I started to smile goofily, he hadn't even noticed me standing in the doorway, watching him, silent and content. He was just concerned with feeling sorry for himself, dragging himself down in his own discomfort. Strangely, I didn't want him to notice me, this moment was perfect and simple, unspoiled. Nothing was complicated and I wished that I could share these blissful silences with him everyday.

"Cartman?" A small, nasally voice croaked, breaking through the avalance of quilts.

"Hey Jewboy" I found myself smirking, a cocky smile spreading across my face.

"Don't just stand there" Kyle groaned "Come in."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I walked in, familarising myself with Kyle's room all over again. Like mine, it hadn't changed that much. I stared around, the room seemed frozen like a museum display.

I perched on the edge of his bed, careful not to get too close to him. Too risky. Especially in the dark. Kyle shivered before asking "Not that I'm ungrateful or anything but what's with the visit?" Even though his voice sounded constantly whiny and lathargic, it was still weirdly cute.

"Just wanted to check on my favourite Jew" I reply, but then instantly regret. Fuck, everything I'm saying right now sounds sentimental.

"Well, that's nice" Kyle sighs, almost delirious, but his words have a sharp, blunt quality to them. Yeah, he's definitely taken too many pills, hypochondriacs like him usually overdo their periods of illness and make it out to be some fantastic, morbid drama.

As I'm sat here, mocking him in my head because ripping on him when he's sick isn't any fun, I'm caught off guard by a clammy, limp arm snaking around my own.

"Dude? What the fuck?" I snap, jolting and instantly becoming nauseous, making a nervous, hot wet sensation course swiftly through my body.

"What?" Kyle laughs high and shrill "You're warm" his soft cheek resting comfortably on my shoulder.

"You're like a comforter. A human comforter." He whispers contently into my jacket, almost forgetting his personal space issues, his pride even his supposed hatred for me.

"Whatever. Just don't get any of your Jew germs on me." I mutter, nudging him in the ribs, making him yelp in pain before I laugh nastily. I can feel the warm, liquid blush of his embarassment on my skin. I can survive on these small, fleeting moments of intimcacy, it truly shows how hard up I am.

"I thought you had all your necessary vaccinations." Kyle smiles, removing himself from my grip to blow his nose.

"Yeah but, I don't know what new virus you're currently hosting. Could be highly contagious." I smirk.

There's a soft pause where no words need to be spoken and for the first time I feel truly at ease. I stare over at Kyle however, who is seriously channelling a helpless, weak victim right now. His scarlet hair is matted and unwashed, though he smells like musky soap. His eyes are pale and slightly glassy, the TV reflecting disturbingly in his scleras, draining an envious green in his irises and his skin is damp, lukewarm, a weary, clinical grey. He's wearing a Denver Broncos jersey and sweatpants and the only sign of life and vibrancy is radiating in his damp, swollen nose which he's constantly petting with a tissue. And I still think he's the most beautiful person I've ever seen, this need to grab him until he bruises, kiss him until he moans and cries and fuck him until we physically can't take it anymore has been replaced with this urge to hug him, make him laugh and fall asleep. Feeding him Doritos and watching any old crap that happens to be on the TV. I squirm at how sentimental I can be and how perfect and right it seems at this very moment.

"What is this anyway?" I ask, pointing at the screen and poking him in his side.

"Scrubs" he grumbles, his patience becoming thinner. "I've got the boxset" he continues, picking up the boxset and waving it in my face, I don't know why. Even more proof he's not thinking straight.

"You're watching a show about hospitals when you're sick?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and messing up his hair "You really don't help yourself do you?"

"Like you're one to talk, remember that time you contracted HIV and you walked around with that baseball cap and scarf like Tom Hanks in that Philadelphia movie?" Kyle teases, elbowing me and smirking smugly.

"Yeah but, that's different. I looked awesome. You look like you're about to die any minute." I reply, knowing that saying that would really piss him off.

"Do you never take a break from being a complete asshole?" Kyle says in this biting way that's a total turn on. I don't think he ever takes a break from being a sassy little Jew bitch.

"Nice to see you have some backbone for once" I whisper lowly in his ear, kind of scaring myself when I feel him swallow nervously and shiver, goosebumps flaring on his pale, tired skin.

"I've always had backbone" He replies in a flustered, almost flirtatious way that makes me gulp.

Another silence, this time it's unnerving, electric, sizziling and excruciatingly slow burning. We're looking at each other, pieces of each other becoming clearer in the low shade of the room. I can see his lips, his hesitant, full lips. I don't know where he's looking though, if he wasn't sick then the thought of kissing him and fooling around in the dark would be a tempting, intriguing idea.

"Anyway" Kyle shakily whispers "I'm not watching this because I'm sick."

"Then why are you watching it then?" I nervously laugh.

"Because" Kyle sighs, effortlessly snapping himself out of his thoughts and looking at the TV. "I want to be a doctor" He says that rather proudly, I feel kind of proud too. That he's opened up and confessed something like that to me.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted to be a doctor. I think it's fascinating... And plus, I would look so good in scrubs."

I run my eyes over Kyle and lick my lips. He would look good in anything.

"You could be a doctor. You're smart enough." I shrug. It's true, Kyle is super intelligent, he's one of the smartest people in the entire grade, along with Wendy, Token and Butters. Kyle's painfully modest about it though, he hates it when the teachers praise him and use his good grades as an example for all of us.

"Cartman, did you just compliment me?" Kyle laughs, looking at me again.

"Yeah but don't make a big deal out of it okay?" I sigh impatiently. "Seriously, if you so much as think about it again I will punch you in the face, even if you are sick, I don't care."

"Fine" Kyle snaps, rolling his eyes.

Kyle gave me the silent treatment for a few minutes before we both ended up laughing at our stubborness. It's times like these where we can't take each other seriously at all, I kinda like it. It just feels so comfortable, all the stress evaporating when we're acting stupid together.

Then suddenly Kyle groans really loudly, making me jump, I honestly thought he was going to pass out. Instead, he rests his head on my lap _my fucking lap _and starts whimpering, moaning over and over about how shit he feels.

"Feel my temprature, go on! Feel it!" Kyle insists, roughly grabbing my wrist and forcing my palm to his feverish, hot forehead, glistening with sweat. But just the fact that I'm touching him, that he's broken down all his boundaries and is this fucking close to me is enough to make me way too excited. If I get a boner I may just die right here. The embarassment of it all would be deadly.

All the shock and pure bizarreness of it all fizzled out fairly quickly, Kyle stopped complaining, instead he sniffed and breathed heavily, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows when my hand slipped away from his forehead. But his head was still on my lap, centimetres away from my dick, his sultry breathing making arousal flutter in my groin, but I don't want to move him if he's comfortable, but I can't get anymore turned on. I can't. Fuck, why am I still a virgin? Surely this whole ordeal would be easier if I had fucked someone a long time ago and some of my sexual frustration and crippiling horniess would be relieved. Instead I'm just a mass of hormones and testosterone who's madly in love with a boy who could, right now, easily pull my fly down and start deep throating me.

Kyle is definitely delirious, he would never have done this otherwise. It wouldn't have even entered his mind if he wasn't burning up and his diet wasn't currently consisting of pills and chips. The only consolation is that I can turn this all on him and rip on him until it stops being hilarious. Right now it's terrible and awkward but it'll be funny tomorrow. Hopefully.

"Oh, Eric..." Kyle moans dramatically, burying his nose in my thigh. Yep. He's gone insane. He has never, EVER called me Eric before.

"Hmmm?" Is all I can bring myself to say.

Kyle has this really wonderful and extraordinary way of making all the panic, the despair vanish. He has this way of making things seem clear and simple, not a big deal. And the best part? He doesn't even know he's doing it... Like now, when he simply replied.

"My head really hurts" In a helpless, weak, innocent way that made me smile. It made me realise that I was his friend right now, someone to distract him from feeling like shit and all we have to do was talk and rip on each other and act like idiots. I just have to be the friend-who's-not-really-his-friend, the guy who pisses him off daily.

"Well, what do you want me to about it?" I obnoxiously ask, smirking in relief.

"Get me the tub of painkillers next to the lamp" Kyle snaps back, not even thanking me when I handed them to him, popping two in his mouth.

~x~

I visited Kyle three more times after that. And with every visit he was sure to rest his head on my lap, murmur how comfortable my jeans felt against his sweaty, gaunt face and I would rip him on him for being a fag. He didn't have the energy to rip on me to the extent that he usually does, so he'd nudge me, softly punch me... He even bit me once. Yeah, that was oddly arousing.

In a way, Kyle being severely ill with some vicious flu virus was a bonding experience. A drained, groggy halycon where we could just be lazy, goof around and not worry about anything. We would watch his boxsets over and over, commenting on stupid stuff, bickering over trivial nonsense. We'd eat chips and drink sprite, Kyle would maybe treat himself to some chicken soup. He didn't like his hot water bottle, he said I was better. I didn't let that freak me out for too long though. There were times where he'd get really dizzy and fall asleep with his head on my lap, begging me to stroke his curls and dab his head with a wet cloth. I snapped at him that he had the flu, not the bubonic plague and he told me that if I didn't do as he said he'd kick me out of his house and what helpless person would I steal Doritos from then? He had a good point. Call me lame, but it was a turning point in Kyle and I's relationship, things were changing, for better or worse.

I felt fine. Kyle didn't turn me into a paranoid, closed off, neurotic mess anymore, we had established some kind of paradigm and relationship that wasn't so blurry. I was obviously still madly in love with him and the pain of it being so mercilessly unrequited still fucking killed me but at least we knew where we stood. We seemed to have seized the horrible purgatory of "in between".

That was until detention on Tuesday. Then everything I had assured myself of bitch slapped me.

Kyle and I were sitting in our usual space at the back, letting Mr Whatshisname sleep, trying to block out his loud, irritable snores. We were talking about Stan and Wendy and how Kyle wants to be the godfather of their kids, bitching about kids in school, how weird it is that we'll be graduating soon when it feels like we've only just got here and how the dreaded prom is getting closer and how pathetic it is that we have absolutely no idea what we're gonna do about it.

There was a slight dip in the conversation before Kyle said "So, you know how like, when we were fifteen we kissed?"

Oh fuck. "Yeah" I swallow, hopefully not too obvious how nervous I am.

"Do you still think about it?" Kyle asks, furrowing his eyebrows and making a face that pleads "Please say yes or I'll die of embarassment."

"No" I lie. Stoic and arrogant as ever.

"Oh" Kyle laughs under his breath, obviously disappointed. I shouldn't be enjoying it right now but I am, this terrifying energy is addictive.

"I'm guessing you do then?" I smile wickedly.

"Well, I remember a lot about it. It comes back to me sometimes." Kyle smiles uneasily.

"Like what?"

"Okay, even though we were both kinda drunk I remember how my tongue felt on the slight stubble you had on your neck" Kyle says quietly, mischeivously, leaning in close and not making eye contact with me, every word rolling off his tongue effortlessly, slowly manipulating me into ecstasy "And I remember how you tasted of lemons and how arrogant and confident you were when you put your tongue in my mouth. I remember being terrified at the fact that I was actually kind of impressed by you."

My breathing has become ragged and the urge to swallow is unbearable, all the memories are rushing back and making my chest feel heated and my skin tingle. I stammer out a breath and ignore Kyle's dark chuckle.

"You're so fucking gay" I shyly, huskily whisper.

"Well you seemed to enjoy it" Kyle giggles back, edging closer, studying my face, my hopeful eyes, smiling and biting his lip as we share this unexplainable yet amazing moment. We can't seem to take our eyes off each other, or say anything that could make sense of this entire thing.

I didn't give a fuck anymore, about anything. I didn't want to speak, even move, I just wanted this moment to preserve... But who am I kidding? It's Kyle and I... Things never turn out the easy way.

Kyle was the one to break first, his panicky, stubborn mind going into overdrive. He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, his emerald eyes widening and his expression is pained, so unnerving to see. It had been so happy and carefree before.

"Sorry" he whispers mindlessly.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry for- well it's nothing just- I don't want to talk about it anymore. Forget I ever mentioned it, okay?" Kyle says, becoming flustered, panicked, obviously upset.

The weird thing was, I knew he was right. I don't know what could've happened if our precious moment lingered any longer but it would've been amazing. But we'd mess it up, we always find a way to knock ourselves back to square one.

Back to frustrated, proud silences that were fronts for passionate, conflicting emotions. But we just keep coming back for more, hit after hit.

~x~

"I can't believe you" Kyle says through gritted teeth, his grip around my wrist burning as he practically drags me to his bedroom, in a flurry of anger.

"What?" I laugh, with a sarcastic edge, making Kyle turn around and give me a deathly stare.

Though I knew what Kyle was angry about, it was Thursday and ever since we had that weird conversation about our kiss a couple of days ago, things haven't been the same. Fun, but strangely unsettiling, we seem to be turning back into those mean-spirited, bickering nine year olds again, it's all about being petty and spiteful and just getting a small, minor taste of revenge before the satisfaction wears away too quickly.

We were getting under each other's skin. Badly. But it was nice, exciting, something that you know is bad for you but is addictive after the first drop. So today, I decided to take it too far, because what's so fun about life if you can't push someone's boundaries? Make their skin crawl?

I invited myself over to Kyle's house for dinner. Which doesn't sound that despicably evil, but for Kyle it is. I hate his parents, they hate me and Kyle always gets caught in the middle and ends up dealing with the fall out. He also hates witnessing confrontation, it makes him really uncomfortable, even though he has no problem being in a conflict with somone. Hell, he's been in one with me since we were in preschool.

The thought of me spending an hour with his parents, trading snide, bitter remarks and openly insulting each other with what can be seen as uncalled for comments, would make Kyle have a nervous breakdown.

See, Kyle's mom always tries to be polite to her son's friends, she just wants to be a good hostess to anyone who enters her spotless, way too perfect home. She mindlessly spouts phrases from some etiquette handbook, maybe something entitled "How To Remain Polite and Dignified in The 21st Century" and one of these phrases is "Would you be able to have dinner with us tonight?" which always comes up when I exchange saccharine pleasantries with her when Kyle and I get picked up from detention. It's been like this for the past few weeks. Kyle always hurriedly answers for me and begs his mom to drive off and to be honest, it's never crossed my mind to say yes to her utterly fake and half-hearted request. Except today I accepted the invitation, Kyle went pale and froze right there, looking at me with sour, vengeful eyes, whilst his mother seemed taken back, perhaps disappointed before composing herself and offering me a ride back to Kyle's house.

Kyle didn't speak to me on the drive so I conversed with his mother instead. Every question she asked was condesending, every answer I gave displeased her and made Kyle shoot venomous stares at me, which would always elicit a self satisfied smile.

As soon as we walked in through the front door, Ike walked out into the hallway, smiling at me and making a sympathetic face that said "Dude, get out while you still can". I like Kyle's brother, he's pretty cool for a thirteen year old. Kyle's dad looked up at me from his paper, confused but then gave me an uncomfortable smile. Kyle's dad has always been so awkward, hell, all my friends dads are, I'm kind of glad I don't have one to embarass me.

Kyle quickly said hi to his dad and brother before dragging me upstairs, walking in a determined way that made me think he was going to punch me. I was so consumed with thoughts of victoriously making Kyle angry and how I could effortlessly push his buttons that I almost didn't hear Kyle's mom reminding us that dinner would be ready soon.

Which brings us back to the present, Kyle pushed me through his bedroom door and slammed it angrily behind him, storming over to his bed, sitting down and pouting, not even looking at me.

"What's the matter Kahl?" I laugh, as I make myself comfortable on his desk chair "What's with all the sand in your vagina?"

"Jesus fucking Christ! Will you shut up?!" Kyle snaps back, making an uneasy smile spread across my face, as he runs a fidgeting hand through his hair, anger shaking out of him, making his face flush and his body quiver with the urge to hit me.

"Woah! Calm down, Jewboy!" I exclaim, putting my two hands in the air, kicking the side of his chair to make it swivel.

Kyle rolls his eyes and gets up, pacing back and forth nervously, his expression pained and lost "I can't calm down! God, why do you do this to me?! Huh, Cartman, do you just get off on making people miserable?! I'm still pissed off at you for- you know- Oh fuck, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore but it's all your fucking fault!" Kyle stops for a minute to hyperventilate, his face reddening with embarassment and frustration and he starts to take sharp breaths, balling his fists until his hands turn a sickly shade of white. Fuck, he's having a panic attack, now I'm starting to worry.

"Dude, seriously calm down" I whisper, squirming uncomfortably.

Kyle swallows and stares down at his shoes, folding his arms defensively over his chest and a part of me knows that he wants to cry angrily and senselessly right now, but he's too stubborn to do so. His breathing becomes softer and he breathlessly pants "Sorry"

"It's okay" I mumble back.

"No! Don't say anything to me!" Kyle shouts, pointing at me and threatening me with those exquisite eyes.

He raises a trembiling hand to his mouth and starts chewing his nails, scanning the room as if he'd never been here before, his eyes breifly meet mine and his face starts to soften apologetically yet accusingly. I should be used to this by now, Kyle's moodswings, his short temper, his bottled up emotions that implode dangerously, fuck, in a way, he's just like me.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I just get like this sometimes. I, I get too angry and I start to panic and it's really nothing... Just... Just try not to get me more wound up. I know that must be hard for you." Kyle quickly says, his voice restless and his lungs start to heave.

"You don't have to keep apologising. It's kind of annoying." I point out, only trying to be honest with him.

"Fuck, why did you even come here?" Kyle whispers bitterly, not really talking to me, just thinking out loud.

"To make you get all angry, you're fun when you're angry." I smile and he gives me a sad, agitated smile back. "Do you not want me here?" I ask, trying my best to sound sarcastic.

"No, I can handle you on my own terms and for an hour in detention but I don't like you being here like this. Making a fool out of yourself in front of my parents and making them antagonise you even more. You may not realise this Cartman, but a lot of people think you're a douchebag."

"Including you?" I ask, smiling wickedly at Kyle, though my heart has started to strum it's usual, nerve-wracking beat.

"Sometimes" Kyle smiles back, fearlessly letting his eyes meet mine in a way that could be interpreted as flirtatious.

I stare around Kyle's room, these familar blue walls, that Albert Einstein poster that always looked odd, the old Terrance and Philip stuff, collecting dust in some dark corner. Kyle's room is spotless, he's always been somewhat of a neat freak, always so organised when it came to stuff like that and yet I've been in so many fights with him where he doesn't care about his clothes getting torn or muddied, or stained with blood. His bruises and scars always looked so beautiful, rich hues and tones shimmering elegantly, making Kyle look like an oil painting hero, his messied, blood soaked scarlet curls and angry emerald eyes always made him look so much hotter, even when he'd just been beaten up.

I look at the pictures on his desk, blissful moments of happiness captured in a single flash, living forever. There's a picture of him when he's six, just a mess of curls and freckles, with a sleeping baby on his lap. It must've been taken from when Ike was adopted. Then there's a picture of Kyle in Jew Scouts, looking so proud in his ridiculous uniform and next to that there's a picture of him in his baseball uniform, looking painfully bored. I can feel myself smiling at this kid, this boy who seems smaller and more naive than the person I'm in love with, it feels weird to think we grew up alongside each other and yet the kid from my memory is much more of a palpable, breathtaking prescence who makes my memories that much brighter than the boy in these frames. He just feels like evidence that's been left behind from the past and it warms my heart to see Kyle like that. They have the same smile, the one fragment of our childhood that will never fade, Kyle's boyish, breezy smile.

All the while I'm getting lost in my thoughts, falling in love with memories and nostalgia, I feel like Kyle's looking at me. His breathing is hesitant and out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at me, in a probing, confused way. He was deep in thought, his eyes trained anxiously, almost dreamily on me. Nagging curiosity eating at him.

"Come sit here" I hear him timidly whisper, shattering the silence.

"What?" I whisper dryly, turning around to face him. He's trembiling, blushing and becoming impatient.

"I said sit here" He whispers again, tapping his foot against the floor and turning his head away from me.

I get up and sit down next to him, I watch him breathe silently, making no effort to talk to me. He just stares at the floor with a concentrated expression, his eyes start to trail over my legs. He seems way too edgy.

"So what do we do now?" I stupidly ask.

"Dunno" Kyle mutters, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth before it fades. His trembles start to worsen and I can hear him almost wheeze, he furrows his eyebrows and bites his lip, forcefully trying to will away whatever's plaguing him in his head.

"Kahl, you're shaking" I whisper numbly, running my eyes over him.

"I know. I know I am." Kyle snaps through gritted teeth and I wonder what I'm still doing here. I'm just really scared about what's going on right now, he's so God damn complicated.

"I'm not crazy" he says defensively, the severity of his voice making me flinch.

"I know"

"Just confused" he nods, looking straight into my eyes.

"Yeah, well, me too" I softly laugh back.

We sat there for a while, just looking at each other. His expression remained the same, his smile was almost grateful and his eyes were distant, preoccupied with my own, stalking me, calculating every possible move in his head. I couldn't move, I was too scared of what might happen. Kyle dropped his gaze, his mouth opening slightly and his tongue dampened his lip, almost as if he was contemplating something as he inhaled every inch of my body. I was obsessed with his every move, he just oozed of smouldering tension and if he wasn't going to act on this instinct soon then I was going to.

He scrambled to his knees and shuffled closer to me, his breathing had calmed and he seemed so poised and in control, like he had this slow burning hunger to just overpower me. It was killing me, the waiting, the curiosity, this loss of control. I didn't know what to fucking do, this was everything I had ever wanted and I was starting to think I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle him, he was just too much for me, too good, too tempting, too beautiful.

"Kahl" I whimpered, small and scared.

"Don't talk" he whispered back, every word sensually hushed and sweet, before he softly pleaded, aching "Just let me look at you. Please."

I almost jumped up when I felt his finger slide longingly from my Adam's apple to the pressure point by my ear. Nostalgia at it's best. I closed my eyes and let them flutter, taking in this moment as I inhaled sharply, holding back a moan. Just one touch was enough to make me slowly come undone.

"I remember this place" Kyle cooed, his voice hungry, he snickered before continuing, still quiet and soothing "Only you could make me feel this way, Cartman. It's like you're never enough, you know? Sometimes you're the last person I want to be around and then other times I miss you so much... Sometimes you're all I ever think about, all I ever want. I hate it."

I looked in his eyes to see if he meant it and he did. Suddenly, I had never wanted him more, I needed him now. I could feel his confession embedding itself on my flesh.

Pleasure and excruciating passion silenced me, made everything vanish. All that matters, all there ever is, is him, us, this moment, our touches, our lips, our eyes uncovering every painfully beautiful emotion. I can feel myself gasp helplessly "Kahl, I-"

"Sssshh" He smiles warmly, lovingly placing his index finger on my lips, he swallows and shudders in pleasure at the touch. While I follow my instincts and kiss his beautiful, slender digit, heat tingiling in my groin when I'm blessed with Kyle's perfect taste. This is so bizarre, but wonderful.

"Don't worry about anything" he reassures, the intensity of his voice making me shiver.

I nod, wanting to believe him, but I can't, I can't help but feel sick with anticipation. Kyle moves even closer to me, so our noses are touching, our lips centimetres apart and we breathe shallow and humid. Kyle slowly leans down and presses his tongue to my Adam's apple, this hot, teasing swell making something stir in my groin, something that only Kyle could elicit from me, he hungrily, curiously moves upward, savouring my taste, giggiling darkly into the rough expanse of my skin when he feels me swallow any shaky moans of pleasure. He tenderly kisses my pressure point and breathes in deeply, smiling against my skin before I grab him and pull him to my lips, digging my fingers into the grooves of his shoulderblades, squeezing my eyes shut as I kiss him as hard as I can, he goes limp in my arms at first, his face burning up and allowing me in before he starts to kiss me back, harder, deeper and I never knew kissing someone could hurt so much, Kyle moans, hot and wet, into my mouth making me groan as I bite his bottom lip, our kiss tasting like copper.

We carried on like this for a few minutes, just wildly biting and kissing each other, not caring about the bruises we left behind, our frantic, pleasured noises muffled against sweet lips. But then we broke away suddenly, breathing heavily, our faces flushed and our lips stained red. I can still taste Kyle's blood in my mouth, we stare at each other with half-lidded, exhausted eyes, lust holding us together, refusing to look anywhere else. Kyle reached out and touched my face and I immediately became withdrawn, frightened and in awe of his touch, somehow confused by his attraction towards me, though it seems like I knew he felt like this all along. Somehow. His fingers gently grazed my skin before he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. He kissed me again, soft and tentative, his lips carefully pressing against mine, I closed my eyes and gently kissed him back, offering the same tenderness that he had offered me.

When Kyle pulled away, he had this knowing, intimidating smirk on his face that made me nervous as hell, like he was figuring me out. Even though I knew he had done that years ago. I felt his hand slide warmly into mine and even though he had just licked my neck and we made been furiously making out for the past fifteen minutes, this felt so intimate. The fact that we fitted so perfectly startled the both of us, imagine what it would be like if we had sex... Jesus Christ, I can't think about having sex with him now, I'm already turned on.

Kyle bit his lip and effortlessly pulled me down, positioning us so I was lying in between his legs, his hands were on my back, playfully drawing invisible circles as he stared up at me with lusty, overwhelmed eyes. His calm, wicked smile made me tremble, I was towering over him and he liked it.

"You're really tall" He shyly smiled, blushing adorably, making him look even more irresistable.

"You're only just realising that?" I laughed back, it tingled against our lips and spurred us on.

"Just shut up and kiss me" Kyle whispered impatiently while I gladly obeyed.

He smiled and moaned into my kiss, just lying there, tracing my spine soothingly with his fingers. Even though I loved how forceful and demanding he could be, it felt nice that he was succumbing to every movement of my tongue, every soft moment of pressure my lips offered, which he happily reciprocated, leaking with love and affection. I had never thought we would see that side of each other, where our actions spoke louder than any of our hateful, bitter words that had been recycled over the years. He liked being overpowered by me, when I begged him to take control he simply smiled teasingly and arched into my embrace, purring as my tongue explored him further.

I had been hesistant to touch him, my one hand rested against his sheets, while my other hand was clutching onto his knee, for support more than anything. Soon, our kisses became hotter, harder more frenzied and lusty, we greedily moaned, whimpered, groaned even cried through our kisses, our bodies were slick with sweat, becoming desperate as our hips bucked and arched, confined by our jeans, creating dry, heated friction. Crimson passion spilled through our veins and made us flushed, panting and gasping with effort as we squirmed and writhed from the feverish entanglement of our tongues.

Suddenly, I felt Kyle grab my wrist, digging and twisting as I made him whine. He slowly, delicately guided my hand to his thigh.

I broke away from our kiss, staring into his intoxicating eyes and breathlessly whispered "Are you sure?"

Kyle wasn't looking at me, he was desperately leaving kisses on my neck, laughing contently into my skin "Of course I am"

I blushed, running my other hand through his stunning scarlet curls and forcing his lips onto mine again. It should've felt weird and foreign, or at least nostalgic but it didn't. It felt like we had been this way, intimate and romantic for our entire lives, that it was nothing new. That we were just childhood sweethearts who's mutal flames never fizzled out. Rather their ignition grew stronger with every kiss. My mind couldn't help but wonder about the other we things we could do, how breathtaking and exhillirating those moments would be, when the ecstasy accelerated and our fingers and mouths would trail to more sensitive places... Fuck, my appetite for Kyle has just become more insatiable.

I panted his name pleadingly into his mouth at the thought of it and he whimpered right back, sending a sweet shiver to crawl down my spine.

I broke away from his mouth, flushed and swollen, my jeans tightening when he gasped, hard and sharp into the sultry air. My tongue travelled down his neck, leaving a trembiling moist trail behind, loving the way he tasted, how I could break him so easily and elicit these wonderful, palpable emotions out of him. I kissed along his neck, taking skin in between my teeth and sucking until I left visible bruises. Marks for him to remember me by. I bit him gently at first, becoming more fierce when he arched up into my embrace and moaned so breathlessly, digging his nails into my back and craving my touch. I wanted to cover every inch of him with my swollen, purple bites.

"_Eric_" Kyle groaned desperately "Please..." His lungs heaving against my own, his pulse descending into crimson rivers of lust under my teeth. My name had never sounded so beautiful.

"Fuck, Kahl" I mumbled into his skin, my voice searing his flesh.

I delicately ran my tongue along his collarbone, making him whimper as he kissed my hair.

"People might ask you about all these hickeys" I murmur into his shoulder.

"Fuck it, I don't care" Kyle smirked, biting my ear lobe.

Our lips eventually meet again, erupting in guilty, satisfied laughter as we exchanged playful, content, chaste kisses over and over. I know it sounds kinda stupid but I never wanted this to end... I guess that's what being truly happy does to you.

"Kyle! Eric!" The voice weaves it's way into Kyle's room, abruptly ending our make-out session.

"Fuck" Kyle grumbles angrily into my mouth, pulling away before shouting back "We'll be down in a minute!"

We push each other away, breathing heavily, blushing furiously before offering each other knowing, wicked smiles. Our arousal so obviously clear to the both of us, Kyle's taste lingering in my mouth. We look so flustered right now, our hair is dishevelled and our clothes are creased, Kyle tries his best to look presentable, fussing with his t-shirt and jeans and combing his curls through his fingers.

"Do I look okay?" He asks, in a voice that only sounds half-heartedly concerned.

I nod, still reeling from the experience and Kyle is too. He keeps staring at me with wild, excited eyes, his shaking fingers trace his hickeys and he blushes and smirks. His neck is literally covered with them, just looking at them is making me even more turned on.

He walks over to his door while I stay put on his bed. Mostly because I'm deep, deep in thought right now, every moment has been captured and as I greedily replay them over and over, they become more lucid and amazing.

Kyle's waiting for me, leaning against the open doorframe and seeing him standing there, staring at me so deeply, lustfully, obviously thinking about that brilliant experience... He may just be the sexiest and most beautiful person I've ever seen. His curls are messed up, dishevelled in this irresistable, smouldering way, his eyes are bittersweet, tempting, captivating, his lips are formed in a smile so kissable, still flushed pink. Fresh teeth marks mar his flesh, sweet, broken colours already coming into bloom. If we didn't have to go downstairs and have some stupid ass dinner then I would fuck him right now. You know, if he wanted to that is... I hope he does.

"Well, are you coming?" Kyle sighs, rolling his eyes, an uncontrollable smile softening his features.

_Well if we kept kissing like that I probably would have _I think before snapping myself out of my daydream and replying in the most sarcastic voice I can muster "Sure I am, I wouldn't miss this for the world, Jewboy"

~x~

We didn't talk about the kiss again. When I left Kyle's house after that awkward dinner I kind of mentally prepared myself for the fact that Kyle and I would put stubborness and fear before any stronger emotions we might have felt. It's been that way since we were fifteen and if I could do it once, I could do it again, right? I've just become so cynical and fed up. The first time Kyle and I kissed, all those years ago, I couldn't sleep. I just kept getting myself more and more frightened by the memory of it and the possibility of something more. I knew that Kyle felt what I felt, I just didn't want to admit it, even to myself.

But now we've kissed again and it was better than before (for one it lasted longer, much longer) and Kyle was way more experienced (the thought that he's kissed and probably done more things with other people is sickening to me) but now these moments of blind, stupid hope and masochistic anxiety just feel regurgitated. Not real, a memory that has just clung to me like miasma.

So the next day, when I walked into school, I expected Kyle to rip on me as usual and the look on his face begged me not to mention his hickeys, which he was trying his best to hide. And I expected everything to be okay in detention, we would just talk and talk and talk about everything except that kiss. I guess it's going to be like this for a couple of years, I mean, Kyle has always been around, we just can't seem to let go. I don't think neither of us would want to. I could happily spend the rest of my life in denial with him. Not saying a word.

Anyway, that kiss was five days ago and his taste still lingers gloriously on my tongue. Especially now when we're talking in our familiar space at the back of the class.

"Did you know that Bebe and Clyde broke up?" I ask as part of Kyle and I's annual bitching ritual which takes place promptly at four.

"Really? How come?" Kyle says, only half interested in what I'm saying, even though he likes bitching about people, he doesn't like gossiping. He looks more interested in his quite impressive doodle of Marvin the Martian from Looney Tunes in his Biology notebook than the love lives of our friends.

"Well, Clyde and Bebe went over to Craig's house with Token, Tweek and Jimmy and apparently Clyde walked in on Bebe giving Craig head..."

Kyle sighs and looks genuinely concerned "Poor Bebe, I know it's her fault and all but she liked Clyde a lot... Even though I don't think Clyde is too upset over losing her"

"Seriously? This is Clyde Donavan we're talking about Kahl, he's the biggest crybaby bitch I have ever met!" I laugh smugly.

"No, I don't mean that" Kyle snaps, rolling his eyes yet again. He does that a lot when he's exasperated. "I mean that she's not the one he's upset with, Craig is the one he's upset with"

"Why?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Haven't you seen the way they look at each other? Clyde may be more in touch with how he feels than Craig, but you can just tell that Craig feels something for him too, even if he won't admit it. And he would probably never admit it, he's too proud, he has a certain reputation to uphold. And if word got out around the locker room that he was queer then that would literally be the end for him." Kyle explains this impatiently, almost disapprovingly. He's right though, people are quick to label you and judge you for things which should seemingly be insignificant. I guess we haven't got the memo in this sheltered little town of ours that not every guy drinks beer, loves football and drives a pick up truck and not every girl will put out if you buy her dinner and want to settle down and have kids before she's 25.

"I don't even know why it matters... Who you are and everything... It'd be so much easier if people left you alone" I almost mumble this to my shoes, I feel so embarassed and exposed when I realise that Kyle and I are in the same boat as Craig and Clyde.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Kyle give me the most admirable and most sincere look he has ever given me. It's like he finally trusts me and all we have is this one mutual insecurity tying us together, making me more cherished and respected in his eyes.

"Well what would you do? If you were Craig?" Kyle whispers, returning to his doodle and trying his best to not look at me.

"Nothing" I mumble, before grabbing Kyle's hand, forcing our eyes to meet "What can he do? He'd just have to keep on pretending... But... There comes a point when you can't keep lying anymore and if he trusts Clyde enough then the least he can do is tell him, right?"

"I guess that's one way to look at it" Kyle whispers.

"It just sucks"

Kyle laughs softly before nodding his head and saying "The worst part is, he didn't ask for this. He didn't ask to be gay and his life would be a lot easier if he could choose."

"You don't think he can change?"

"Of course he can't! Being gay is genetic, it isn't a decision somebody makes!" Kyle laughs before explaining to me "Look, if somebody actually decided to be gay in this town, then they're fucking crazy. Their life would just become a living hell"

"Well... Would you ever leave?" I ask.

"What?" Kyle replies, genuinely shocked.

"Would you ever leave South Park?" I ask again, this time more hesitant, almost scared of Kyle's answer.

"Yeah, I'd need somebody to come with me though..." Kyle teasingly smiles, biting his lip and beginning to close the gap between us.

"Is that an invitation?" I smirk, staring at his mouth.

"If you want it to be..." Kyle whispers before slowly sealing the promise with a soft, tentative kiss. The vibration of a moan rumbiling low in the back of his throat makes our kiss electric and I force his lips apart with my tongue while Kyle happily welcomes me in.

The kiss was only brief, greedy and going at an indulging, satisfactory rythym. I broke away however, and when I did, Kyle looked kind of disappointed which obviously I loved.

"So is this what we're doing now? Randomly kissing each other?" I whisper into his perfect lips, whilst I twirl his curls around my index finger.

"I don't know" Kyle mutters angrily before whispering "I'm sorry, okay?"

"You say sorry way too much" I giggle which makes him smile and blush, his hand softly gripping my wrist and making me cup his face.

This precious, perfect moment is interupted by the niggiling thought that Kyle will forget this ever happened. Or rather force himself to forget it and he'll just go into this stubborn denial. These moments we share are just mistakes and slip-ups that can be easily erased. To him, at least.

That's the thing, I've known Kyle since I was five and I can read him so easily, sometimes he's just so predictable. Then other times he remains a complete mystery, impulsive and torn and I just don't get what his logic is or what he wants.

But he's so bittersweet and addictive that I can't help coming back for more.

~x~

"Your hickeys are starting to fade" I shyly mutter as Kyle and I walk out of detention for the last time. It's hard to believe that our month is up and that things will probably go back to the way they were. It's just hard to imagine... It's hard to imagine us going back to constantly bickering, back to lingering, confused glances and pretending that we don't mean something more. It seems that so much has changed and shifted in the last few weeks, it's too much to tear down and I don't want this to end.

I guess it has to, if I want to keep my pride. I don't want to risk getting hurt and I don't want to push Kyle away from me. I'd rather we scream and fight for the rest of our lives than to break each other's hearts and watch him fade away just because of one simple confession. Three simple words.

"Oh yeah, I guess they are" Kyle mumbles back, not meeting my eyes. His hickeys look less sore, the fresh, inferno of colours have been dampened by time and are grey, my kisses growing old on his skin and are clinging for dear life. But the mark, the groove is still there, tiny craters that remain from when my teeth broke his flesh. They'll never fade. When I look at them, lightening colours flash briefly across my vision, purple and pink, all so passionate and romantic.

We're casually strolling down the halls, hands in our pockets and letting the squeek of our sneakers against the polished floor fill any empty moments. Not rushing, we never do, my mom's always late while Kyle's mom is always right on time.

When we reach the stairwell, we're welcomed by the soft reflection of snow falling. If this wasn't an almost everyday occourance for us then we'd appreciate it more, though it does look eerily pretty. The huge ass window that takes up the entire wall paints a picture of a wilting blizzard, earlier the snow whipped around the air and hissed and gasped with sharp gusts of wind but now it fluttered to the ground in silence. Still, the clouds were pregnant with the stuff, so there was bound to be another blizzard tonight.

As we walk down the stairs, I turn to Kyle and say "You know, when we kissed all those years ago, you didn't say anything to me." I don't know why I just blurted it out, I could have asked him weeks ago. Better late than never I guess.

"What do you mean?" Kyle nervously laughs, quickening his pace. "And you didn't talk to me about it either, it's a two way street, right? So what's your problem?"

I roll my eyes and catch up to him. "It's just that you never talked to me about it, you didn't argue with me about it, you didn't do anything. You carried on like nothing happened so I just went along with it."

Kyle stops, grabbing my shoulders and sighing in exasperation "Cartman, I never talked to you about it because, well, it's you! You know, you are the most stubborn, proud and closed off person I have ever met. I have never ever heard you confess anything to me, you never tell me how you feel about anything. But that's just who you are, that's who you've always been. You wouldn't be seen dead talking to anybody about your feelings. You're too scared of looking vulnerable and open. And I'm the last person you would confide in because you hate me, isn't that right? It would kill you if I knew anything a little deeper about you... I just did what I thought was best."

Kyle doesn't give me time to answer, I think he sensed that he said too much. Yet, he said it all, I hate how intuitive he can be, how he's right about everything. He knows me more than I'll ever know him. I didn't say to him that he's not exactly different, he's stubborn and proud and selfish. If I wasn't so speechless and mind numbingly angry that he figured me out I would've told him that.

He's won. He's fucking won. "I'll see you later" He mumbles, offering me a sympathetic smile before walking away without me.

I stare at him, conflicted with hate and love.

Kyle stops for a second and turns around, staring straight into my angry, disbelieving eyes. When I look into his gorgeous eyes, ready to get lost in them all over again, I see that they are filled with tears. He's trembiling and his breathing is starting to become shattered, a stammer of tears revealing itself with every harsh breath.

"Oh, and Cartman? Don't think you have to say anything more about it. You missed your chance."

And with that he walks off angrily, shoving his hands in his pockets, desperate to leave me behind.

I don't feel sad or hurt or betrayed. I just feel fucking angry, I guess every pent up, painful emotion I put aside for him has accumolated into this cancerous, sour storm of resentment.

But I still miss him and it breaks my heart to know that he'll always be cautious around me. That those calm, happy moments of friendship and affection that we shared will just be carelessly thrown away and forgotten.

~x~

It's been a week since that whole showdown with Kyle and every day we seem to become more angry and hurt. I both dread and look forward to seeing him which makes me feel more pathetic than ever, what makes it even worse is that he mirrors exactly what I'm feeling. It's like we've both become manifestations for each other's emotions and we have no choice but to face them, yet we suffer in silence. Literally.

We haven't spoken since last week, we haven't argued, disagreed, we haven't exchanged meaningless everyday pleasantries with each other. We can't even look each other in the eye. Though I gaze at him when he's not looking, after all we do hang out with the same people everyday so we can't really escape each other no matter how hard we try. But that's always been the case, I'll never escape Kyle and he'll never escape me. I used to like that, now it's making things more and more difficult. Yesterday I had the strongest, most vivid urge to punch him and then cry.

He makes me so fucked up, I haven't slept, I've hardly eaten, I can't get him out of my head. I've always been obsessed with him but it seems now that he's plaguing me. I'm either yearning for him, kicking myself about what could've been, losing myself in a cyclone of regret, fuelled by every lucid memory, or getting myself insanely angry over all those things he said to me, when this is just as much his fault as it is mine.

I caught him staring at me a couple of days ago though, he looked at me the same way he looked at me when he was sick. Sad, helpless and looking for some comfort. I want him to miss me, this whole thing wouldn't sting as much then.

However, today I was going to face him once and for all. I had to do it in the only way which could make this right. One that would prove him wrong and make him realise that he's meant to be with me. That we belong together.

I swallow that undeniable sensation of pure fear and take a deep breath as I walk over to his locker. I try to put the nameless faces out of my mind, try to ignore the other kids going about their business.

My fingers ghost Kyle's back, a small, shivering smile appearing on my face as I whisper nervously "Listen Kahl, can I talk to you?"

When he turns around to face me, he doesn't seem surprised, even though these are the first words I've spoken to him in a week. He's always had this ability to hold his own and keep his emotions bubbiling below the surface.

He offers me a false, impatient smile before hurriedly slamming his locker and replying as nicely as he possibly can "Can we do this later? You know, when there's not so many people around?" Kyle's voice has a hint of intimidating malice and coupled with the fact that he's starting to walk away, it makes me brave enough to call out sternly "No"

Oh fuck, although my arrogance should carry me through this, I feel like the least capable person in the world. "I, I need to talk to you now"

Terrifyingly, we've started to attract attention, people are lowering their conversations and awkwardly staring at us and I fear I may just break.

Kyle looks as shit scared as me right now when he barely whispers "In front of everybody?"

I nod, take in a stammering breath and say "Yeah... You know what it's about, that's why you look so scared... But it's also why you're not walking away."

Then Kyle smiled, and I know it sounds cheesy but my heart skipped a beat. And I know whatever humilation and hurt I may go through is all worth it because of this moment. Kyle nervously giggles and blushes with a goofy smirk "You're a smug son of a bitch"

"Do you know that the only reason I didn't say anything to you all those years ago is because you never gave me the chance?"

"What?!"

"You fucking heard me Kahl!" That takes both Kyle and I back. The strength of my voice starts to weaken, tremble and becomes softer. "You just carried on pretending that it never happened, that it didn't mean something to you, that you didn't feel something but you did. Look, I'm not saying it was some fantastic, romantic life changing moment but it was still pretty fucking huge and it changed something between us! But you were too damn scared and proud to acknowledge it!"

I start to laugh, bitterly and it leaks with spite. All this anger that has been stewing inside me has turned acidic, eroding any sense of rationality and maturity I need to have about this situation.

When I look at Kyle he looks so humiliated and angry, crossing his arms and his eyes are piercing me. In some sick, twisted way, it makes this whole thing rather enjoyable.

And in the meanest way possible I continue "I gotta give it to you Kahl, you did pull off that bullshit. You grew a pair and lied right to everyone's faces, including mine. And no matter how much it pissed me off there was nothing I could do. Because it was _you _and you've become a totally different person to me now, you're the only one who's immue to my special brand of hatred. It was like you were untouchable and it made me want you even more! Because I'm sick that way, aren't I?"

Kyle squirms uncomfortable and I hope the guilt is eating away at him. Who knew reconciliation and venegence could go hand in hand? Through gritted teeth he replies "Fine. I'm sorry, but you're not perfect either-"

"Don't you think I realise that?! I fucked up too and got in my own way! But I had so much to say to you, even if it killed me, but you made me feel like I couldn't talk to you about it at all! You never gave me a chance..."

"Well what do you want from me?!" Kyle shouts desperately, in a way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my blood freeze. Now it's my turn to squirm. "You've made me look like a total prick in front of everyone! So what do you want?!"

Two can play at that game. I walk up to him with every intention of hitting him, and by the looks of it, he has every intention to hit me too. "For you to apologise and mean it!" I shout back.

"Okay! I'm fucking sorry I did all that to you!" Kyle's eyes are filled with tears as he practically screams at me, his face becoming more flushed and he starts to seethe with anger "But you want me to admit something that's too God damn hard for me to say! And I can't fucking do it!"

"What, that you like me?!"

"Yes!"

"So you can make out with me _more than once _and put your head on my lap when you're sick but you can't just admit that you have feelings for me?!"

"Goddamnit! Yes!"

Our screaming match comes to an abrupt halt when Kyle smiles bitterly and says, as calmly as possible "See, you think you know me Cartman? The thing is, we're just as stubborn as each other. We're exactly the same."

Suddenly, all the toughness is washed away when Kyle says, in the most heart wrenching voice I have ever heard, one that lets me know that he's being completely honest "I liked the way we were, well, are. I like that I can fight with you and hate you one minute and then goof around with you and love you the next. You're the only person that I could ever feel this way for and I don't want to lose that. I, I don't want to lose you. So please don't make me feel like an evil, manipulative dickhole for being shit scared of losing someone so important to me. Because you are, Cartman, you're so special and incredible and believe me, I've known that for longer than three years. But I am like you, I don't like being vulnerable or opening up or telling people how I feel. It's hard for me, it's hard for us. Hell, do you know how much it must've taken for me to tell you that I want to be a doctor? That I still I think about our kiss sometimes and for me to let go of my weird personal space thingy just so I could be closer to you? I don't let myself become honest with just anyone, especially someone like you who pisses me off and rips on me constantly. But if that's not enough proof for you that I like you then I'm sorry."

Kyle and I have said some horrible, cruel things to each other over the years, but that really fucking kills me. He's always had this way with words, this ability to crush you and wipe everything away by just speaking from his heart. Strangely, I've never loved him more. I've never realised how important it is to fight for us, something tells me that if we ever end up together, then we'll have to work and fight for it every single day. But I'm willing to do that for him. Just like I hope he's willing to do that for me.

We both share a look so pained, heartfelt and sincere that it feels like this numb, dull aching and our stinging tears are moulding into one.

"Can I go now?" Kyle whispers sadly, almost pleadingly.

What can I do? What can I say? So I just nod. Guilt and anxiousness twisting inside me, making me want to scream, cry, vomit, maybe all three. But all this heartache is easy to swallow when Kyle smiles at me gratefully, softly squeezes my shoulder and reassures me that everything he told me was the truth.

Kyle walks away from me then, I replay his words over in my head as the people around us start whispering and muttering to themselves. I hope they enjoyed. Because their opinions and objections don't seem so daunting. All I can focus on is Kyle anyway. He likes me, he fucking likes me and I just heard him say it, I was right all along. What have I got to lose?

"Will you go to prom with me?" The question felt like a bullet. Quick, leaving the biggest fucking impact.

Kyle doesn't answer for a minute, he doesn't even turn around. When he does decide to face me, he looks so lost and small, just dying for someone to answer my question for him. Though he can't help but smile and after a while, he puts his hands in his pockets, raises his eyebrow and smirks "Really? Eric Theodore Cartman asking _me _to prom? All this time I thought you hated me-"

"I do" I interrupt, which shocks him a little, but I continue anyway, trying to get my words right as I confess "I always have and in a way I always will. You've always driven me crazy and that's not gonna stop anytime soon, but I figure... I figure that if you can drive me crazy and piss me off over and over again but I can still look at you and know that you're the most amazing person I've ever met then, you're the only one I'm meant to be with."

When I meet Kyle's eyes, their filled with the most loving look he's ever given me. He bites his lip and smiles this infectious smile that makes me feel ridiculously happy.

"So, what's it gonna be?" I ask.

"Yes" Kyle replies, without any hesitation, before he rushes over to me and pulls me into his embrace. We hug like we don't want to let each other go, his hands grip onto my shirt, digging his fingers into my skin but I don't care. I want him to hold onto me forever. I can feel him smiling into my shoulder, breathing me in while I lose myself in this embrace.

"Aren't you afraid of making a scene?" I tease, whispering in his ear.

"Well it's a little too late to be worrying about all that crap now isn't it?" Kyle replies before he kisses me in front of everyone.

~x~

"Okay, are we ready?" The overly eager photographer calls out as Kyle fusses with my tie.

"Just give us a second" Kyle replies, before smiling happily at my fixed tie and nodding his head to the photographer "We're ready!"

Kyle has remained so calm and optimistic about tonight, I was a little nervous about what people might say when Kyle and I strolled into prom as each other's dates but Kyle took it all in his stride. He even held my hand when we walked into the gym, half heartedly decorated with streamers and balloons. It looked like a six year old's birthday party at the Rec center.

"Alright, you, young man" The photographer smiled, pointing at me "If you could just put your arm around your lovely date for me..."

I blushed, rolling my eyes and hesitantly put my arm over Kyle's shoulder while he nudged me and tried his best to contain his laughter. I think it's because we're still getting used to the fact that we're a couple, with the exception of kissing and occasionally saying affectionate things to each other, we don't act like boyfriends at all. We rip on each other all the time and talk about the same old crap that we used to. Nothing's really changed except that when we make up we don't look at each other with the ashamed, curious glances that we used to exchange. We give each other this look that says _"God damn, I'm so lucky to have you"_ which, in my opinion, feels a thousand times better than our old way of resolving arguments.

"This is killing you, isn't it?" Kyle mutters jokingly as the photographer messes around with his camera.

"What are you talking about, Jewboy?"

"Being all romantic and acting like an actual teenage couple. You'd rather us have a natural looking picture than just forcing a smile for the yearbook."

"Okay, so how would a natural picture of us look?"

"Well we'd probably be pissing each other off and insulting each other but we'd have this look in our eyes that makes it all okay. Because even if I occasionally say I want to murder you, I know that my life would just be boring and much less entertaining without you around and that I love you in spite of all your numerous bad qualities."

"You, you love me?" I ask, never feeling so vulnerable and human. Fuck, Kyle loves me? Just the thought of it ignites something in me that I didn't know could feel so good.

"Of course I do" he whispers, blushing like crazy before he furrows his eyebrows and coils his arm tightly around my waist "I thought you knew that"

"No" I shrug, offering him that smug smile that I know both infuriates and amuses him "But I know that I love you too"

"Really?"

I answer him by bringing his lips to mine in a soft, gentle kiss, he immediately presses his body closer to me, our heartbeats intertwining in a frantic rythym. Making me smile against Kyle's beautiful lips.

Our kiss is interrupted by an invasive camera flash, capturing this perfect, tender moment and making it immortal.

We pull away and stare at the photographer like he's crazy, but he ignores us and says in a totally saccharine way "Thanks kids, that was brilliant, have a great night!" Ushering us away from his shoot so the next couple can take our places.

While Kyle and I laugh, holding hands and trying to fight the urge to just kiss each other and never stop. But it doesn't feel new or strange, it just feels like we were meant to be, that it was fate, some intangible, passionate and addictive emotion that has lingered over us for as long as we can remember that brought us together and fufilled that aching, longing pit of confusion.

Maybe through all the hatred, the bitterness, the cruelty and spite, love was manifesting between the both of us, growing as the years went by and we realised how much he fucking needed each other.

And all it took was a dumb drinking game, a bottle of tequila and a first bittersweet kiss to make this undying, dysfunctional and yet perfectly painful love to fall into place.

Just two messed up, stubborn, angry kids who vowed begrudgingly to follow each other until the very end.


End file.
